


I'm the One You're Using

by polypocket



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Comfort Sex, Does anyone read these, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sharing a Bed, bed sharing to "save money", magic use, not so slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-14 18:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polypocket/pseuds/polypocket
Summary: Caleb's not forthcoming about his past and Fjord's not telling the whole truth either.Who's using who and for what?





	1. Panic

    _It was dark and he was unseasonably warm. Caleb sensed the sweat collecting at his temples and on his neck. His entire body was buzzing, recklessly trembling, but he could not move. Arcane energy flowed through his veins, the tips of his callused fingers, stinging and bright with the fresh ghost of his magic. He felt a rush of scalding wind at his back and could hear the crackling, the roaring of an uncontrollable inferno sizzling and the inhuman wails of his mother. The sickly stench of burned flesh overwhelmed his senses and he quelled the urge to vomit. Strong arms braced him away from the howling bonfire that once housed his childhood and the memories of a loving family. He struggled against the arms, tearing at flesh, kicking, sputtering, begging to scream but no sound would come. Flames licked his hands, his spine, the back of his mind. Hot, too hot, it was unbearable. Trent’s voice whispered deep and low in his ear, “Caleb.” With a dry mouth and wet cheeks, Caleb’s eyes shot open in the inky black._

    He jolted awake, breathing labored and rattling, like he had when he first ran from his past. As his eyes adjusted, he registered a rustic bedside table, a pewter candlestick, a haphazard pile of armor, coats, and boots. All bathed in dim, lilac moonlight, they barely stood out in the darkness of the room, but it was enough to bring him back to the present. A stiflingly hot, green arm draped over his middle struggled to find purchase on his skin and he felt Fjord breathing muggy air onto his neck, nuzzling and whispering.

    “Caleb? Caleb you’re shaking like a godsdamned leaf,” a muffled voice behind him soothed, “Are you alright darlin’?”

    “Fjord?” Caleb’s voice quivering higher than he intended.

    “Course it’s me Cay, you’re having another bad dream, I think. You were trembling, I thought it best I wake ya,” as Fjord moved Caleb to face him. The wizard recognized the gentle falter on Fjord’s handsome features when he saw the damp hollows of Caleb’s face. The half-orc’s clawed hand moved up to brush the tears from his fragmented wizard’s face, gentle as a lamb. The tremors began to subside as Caleb curled into Fjord’s chest, still softly weeping.

    “You don’t have to say anything, everything’s gonna be okay Caleb,” Fjord swept Caleb’s tangled red hair out of his face and stroked the back of his head softly over and over, repeating his soothing affirmations until his broken boy fell back into a dreamless sleep.

    Or so he thought.

 

//

 

    Fjord would like to think he’s a simple man, with simple wants and desires. He’d like to think he’s just a sailor through and through and that all he wants is a stable life and a loving partner. Not easy but modest. He would like to think those things, but the fact of the matter is that nothing has been uncomplicated since the day his ship sank. Since the last day he saw Vandren. Not one damn thing has been _simple_ since then. Not till Caleb.

    Loving Caleb had come naturally to the half-orc, like waking up earlier than the sunrise every morning or hollering for ale in a dank tavern. It came to him like it had been there all along, sneaking up on him like a memory he might’ve already possessed. Almost as naturally as summoning the falchion or dropping his accent, though as of late anything having to do with his patron seemed entirely _un_ natural at best. And anyways, he knew Caleb wouldn’t even suspect his affections since that man nearly always had his nose in a damn book as it was. But loving from afar was just about enough for Fjord, until the nights they shared a bed together out of necessity and shortage of coin. Then, of course, it got more complicated.

    Caleb rocking gently in his arms makes the warlock feel almost whole again. But this nagging thought at the back of his mind keep him from feeling satisfied. Fjord knows Caleb has a past, some sort of trauma that keeps these night terrors returning every few months, something that he just can’t get out from under just yet. His little redheaded wizard man hasn’t said much about it but Fjord is there for him when the fear overtakes him and reminds him that the past is just where it should be, behind him. But he’s a liar and he knows it. All of Fjord’s half-truths added up still don’t equate to honesty. His past certainly isn’t behind him. He wears Sabien’s betrayal like a brand, open and infected, reminding him everyday that he cannot trust. The wreck sits on his shoulder whispering memories just inaudible enough to obscure their meaning. And now Uk’Otoa beckons in front of him, summoning, pulling with an otherworldly tug on his fate. No, Fjord’s past is a chain heavy with responsibility leading into a thick fog that he cannot parse. He pets his wizard softly and wills the nebulous cloud of jumbled thoughts away, far away from this moment. He wishes for peace.

    His body betrays him as it always does. As his mind had briefly drifted to the thought of Sabien, Fjord’s other head was roused as well. _Not now_ , he closes his eyes and forces the thoughts of his past lover splayed beneath him away but not before he replaces Sabien with Caleb. Caleb’s pale face, flushed, freckles like a roadmap of places Fjord wants to escape to. His forehead damp with sweat from the pleasure Fjord endures to provide. Absentmindedly, Fjord’s hips thrust gently and nearly imperceptibly into his bed mate. His eyes fly open and Caleb is looking up at him, coy with something not unlike lust behind his eyes.

    “Shit, I’m sorry Cay,” Fjord let’s go of the vice grip he’s been holding on Caleb. “My mind drifted and I’m tired, gods, I’m sorry.” The warlock moves his body away from the growing heat between them with a painfully apparent erection laying against his belly, not hidden by the threadbare sheets. His free hand flies to his brow as he settles on his back, embarrassed at his body’s timing.

    “No, no don’t be ashamed, I’m sorry for crying on you like a child.” Caleb is calm wearing his shame like a shroud.

    “Never apologize for cryin’ Cay, shit’s rough, and I’m here for you when you need me,” Fjord tries to reassure the wizard and pivot the conversation away from anything untoward his cock may have had in mind.

    Fjord’s orc- _half_ controls his lower half and he cannot hide his growing desire. Caleb just looks so damn ethereal, pale and pink from where his tears have been wiped away, bathed in the light coming in from the window. And suddenly the candle on the nightstand sparks to life where it once sat cold and singular. Fjord glances down at Caleb.

    “You do that?” gesturing towards the candlestick. Anything that may have lain in the dark is now brought to the light.

    “Well, I cannot see in the dark like you can Fjord,” his name is a taunt in Caleb’s mouth. His Zemnian accent thick with desire. Fjord feels a cool hand slide down along his thigh and Caleb’s ocean eyes leave his face and rest upon a half-orc’s indiscretion.

_Fuck._


	2. Fervor

    Now their cover was blown, Fjord sprawled on his back with the emerald tip of one very interested cock peeking out from the hem of the sheets and Caleb with his unabashed focus on the very same. Caleb’s chilly hand creeping along a hot thigh. There was no way to misread what was to inevitably occur.

    “Caleb.” His voice was strained. “Caleb, you’re awful close to my—”

    At that moment Caleb’s hand found it’s mark. Fjord gasped softly, and the light of the candle dimmed as it burned low in its vessel. In an instant one half-orc’s baser needs took over and Caleb found himself pinned beneath Fjord, hand’s locked together above his head by a blisteringly strong grasp and two thighs taught with corded muscle on either side of his hips.

    “You sure you know what you’re gettin’ into Widogast?” Seeing Fjord’s cock already glistening at the tip charged a hot coiling heat deep in his belly. Caleb rolled his hips up to meet with Fjord’s, rubbing himself along Fjord’s length. Fjord growled in response to the sensation of this scrawny man writhing beneath him.

    “I might have some idea,” Caleb groaned softly at the heat between them and feeling of the warlock’s nakedness against him with just the fabric of his own smallclothes keeping them apart. His mind briefly wondered at the query.

    Because if loneliness was a person, then Caleb would never need to remember the word sincethey'd _always_ be with him. He had Nott of course but he was terribly solitary. Filthy alleys and dark corners don’t warm themselves even when their inhabitants are shivering wizards and twitchy goblin girls.

    But then this rowdy group of misfits scooped him, and his goblin friend and they’d forced him to shower, laugh, and to a certain extent relax. It made him warm and terrified all at once. If he got too comfortable, if he gave too much of himself, he would destroy what minute apparition of joy he seemed to be finding again. The last people he gave his withered heart to nourished it just like the M9, nursed him to a glowing blossom, like the M9 were trying to, and then ripped him from his roots and plucked him free of any shred of love or self-control. He was terrified this is what might happen or worse, they’d find out what kind of hideous monster he truly was. They’d peel back the dirty layers of shame he clothed himself in to hide and find the desolate shell of a murderer. The absence of a human. A butcher, an arsonist, a coward.

    He had to keep these walls up enough to keep them out, for if they truly cared for him, he could not let them see him as he was. And if they ended up being malevolent creatures themselves, then he wouldn’t be wounded by them. But the walls kept him in and even though his guilt drove him mad, gnawed and dissolved him from the inside out, he could not shake his longing.

    A yearning for a soft touch here and there. Though the guilt might singe his skin to accept such a comfort. A desire for, no-- _not for love, he was unworthy of love_ —but something akin to a moment of release. To let go of everything and shed his blame. To relinquish his doubts and sins, for one moment, to just exist to feel something other than pain. But how could a _feigling_ like him ask anyone for that?

    But Fjord. Fjord’s unguarded eyes on him. _Mein gott—_ the man’s gaze alone was intoxicating. And though Caleb believed he didn’t deserve an ounce of kindness, here was Fjord lavishing him with the contemplation of the most intimate of lovers. Everyday he could feel Fjord staring at him, regarding him with careful contemplation. Sizing him up, undressing his soul, devouring his disguise and sucking the marrow from his hiding places with meticulous and deliberate desire to consume every last morsel. Fjord was learning the wizard. And for once, Caleb enjoyed being stared at.

    He vowed he wouldn’t get too comfortable though. Chuckle occasionally, crack a joke, maybe even exercise the twitch of a grin. Calculated carelessness. But sometimes it bubbled up accidentally, Jes and her carefree affection, Fjord with his unnatural charm, Molly so bright and colorful, Caduceus the calm rock, Yasha honest to a fault, Nott and her wild protectiveness, Beau the aloof, and rowdy mess. He felt a warmth for these people that continued to creep past calculated. It made him afraid. And yet his heart was earnest and solemn with the idea that these people wanted to shield him, wanted to keep him safe.

    And then there was the matter of sharing a bed with such a desirable liar like Fjord. Fjord wouldn’t tell the whole truth, he’d said as much. His air of confident mystery ebbed and flowed, drawing Caleb in and pulling him under like a riptide, too late once he was in it. There was something behind his golden eyes that Caleb endeavored to uncover. Often as they lay together as allegedly _platonic_ beings, the weight of unspoken hungers hung in the air dense as fog until they blinked out into slumber often awaking entangled in each other’s’ arms. It was almost customary for them to spoon before they’d fallen asleep at this point and—

    “Cay?” Fjord’s voice edged with concern brought him out of his reverie.

    “Ja, actually _schatz_ I have no idea what I’m getting into but if you do not fuck me now,” he hissed, “I might burst into—”

    Fjord’ mouth came crushing down on his own. This kiss, if one could call it that, was a collision of teeth and lips and tongues searching, exploring with abandon. Fjord’s skin tasted of salt, but his mouth was sweet like honey and cream, licking into his, probing for more. Fjord broke away momentarily but not moving more than an inch from Caleb’s face.

    “Well alright then,” and he dove back into his wizard’s eager, hot mouth urging Caleb to let go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still feeling rusty, sorry to leave it on another cliffhanger-ish type of situation but we're getting down to the meat of whats about to happen ;)
> 
> Was kind of in a weird head space when I wrote this part so if it seems disjointed, there ya have it.

**Author's Note:**

> The tension in the last ep had me dying to write something like this, two dirty liars in bed being honest. Also Liam mentioning "Heart of Glass" somewheres as I heard through the Widowmauk grapevine. That's where the title came from!
> 
> Also, this is the first thing I have written in years, I am hella rusty.


End file.
